Dance of the Gypsy
by x0Rose Hime0x
Summary: The baby of a notorious criminal is adopted into a Gypsy clan for her own safety, but her life takes an unusual turn for the worst when a prophecy is delivered to the clan mother. What will become of her? R


**_Author's Note: This entire fanfiction is under renovation. I felt that I had to clarify some things, mystify other things...If you have read it before and are expecting another chapter, I apologise. The entire plotline isn't different but you'll have to read it again because it has been completely redone. If you are just reading it: Hi, welcome, Review when you finish and bookmark it if you don't! Please and thank you (: The other chapters will be up again...different but not as completely fresh out the water as this one, just edited a little bit._**

**DualKatanas: Thank you for the embarrassing, but true, point regarding 'Arena'. Sorry about that, epic fail on my part. ): _Disclaimer: I don't own Oblivion._**

**Dance of the Gypsy**

Chapter One

"Darling, Thomas, you must take her with you. I beg of you!"

"My dear Marie, I've told you that there is simply no place for a child on the roads. It's dangerous. Surely you understand that?"

"I do, I do-"

"No, you don't. You simply can't if you think we could take such a young babe on a deathly trail!" The implications of Thomas's words hung in the air and stung her like wasps. No. No. _No_. No?

"And you're telling me that staying here is safer?" she whispered weakly into the candle-lit gloom. They stared at each other for a good while, nether knowing what to say to convince the other. She had a point. The guards would find her. They would find her, and then what would happen to the child? Who knows what could happen? Who knows where she would go? Who knows where her baby would go?

Who knows if the road would be safer?

"Give me the babe." The baby whimpered in surprise as it was transferred out of her mother's warm embrace and into the rock-solid cradle that was the Redguard's arms. The candle flickered for a moment. The air was drenched in thoughts that hung above them like a huge flannel. No-one dared speak for a few minutes, lest it fall and wrap around them in a suffocating cocoon of potential problems.

"Thank you," rung out like the softest of chimes, but no one really knew whom it had come from. No one could hear through the roaring whirlpool of worry and hope that surrounded them and trapped the words as they tried to escape. The only thing that mattered now was that little girl that lay in the burly arms of the stocky Redguard. The child that so many would sacrifice their own safety for.

The infant gurgled; oblivious to the life-threatening decision that had been made. The clean white cloth that was used to wrap her had been done tightly in order to help her arms and legs grow straighter, her mother had said. Thomas looked at her and started to take in the features of the child he had just taken responsibility for. She had a lot of hair for a baby, black tufts of soft, straight hair shot up over the blanket like sprouting grass. She was so young that her eyes had not changed from the sea-blue which all human children have at first and they looked startlingly bright next to the dark frame that surrounded them. He furrowed his brow. So dark. Much, much darker than her snowy-white mother's complexion.

"I hope I am not speaking out of turn but I feel I have to ask. Who's the father?"

Marie twitched a little and gave a sigh of exasperation, "I can't say. It could potentially put the babe in grave danger."

"The babe will be with me. If she asks for her heritage what, pray, am I to tell her?"

"Tell her you don't know. Tell her you received her in a basket in the middle of the night. If you reveal to her where I am, she will set out to find me and then...and then...and then I can't say _what_ will happen." She looked desperately up at him, but received nothing other than a painfully cold stare. "Please, Thomas."

"I have done much in the name of what's right. I have sacrificed a lot of my morals and beliefs for this child. And now you tell me I am to lie to the very thing you begged me to protect?" without realising it he had allowed his face to contort into an angry growl, frustration beckoning anger and anger beckoning trouble.

Marie leaned forward and placed her hands gently on the small wooden table that separated them and, while looking deep into his chestnut eyes with firm determination that only a mother has, coolly replied, "It is just one more step to ensure the safety of my daughter. If you want to protect her, this is your only option. Do not argue."

He was taken aback by her sudden firmness and closed his mouth which had been poised to snap. He simply nodded and stood up to leave, towering over the seated Marie like a stone fort. She rose and manoeuvred around the table to hand him the bundle of cloth that had been lying in between them the entire time. It contained within it cloth that was to be used as diapers, cloth that was to be used to feed and cloth that was to be used to swaddle. But it had appeared as a bundle of rags to anyone uninformed. She had thrice before shown him in a casual fashion how to use each of these, saying that he was being prepared for when he had his own child, but it was not until now the true purpose of these lessons dawned on him. He tucked them firmly under one arm, holding the baby close to his breast as he did so.

"I must go... we're leaving soon." He regretted rushing her, but it was unavoidable. All this debate would have been useless if the camp left without them.

"I know. I know," she swallowed the lump in her throat and swooped down to gently kiss her daughter on the forehead. "I love you, Arianna. I'm sorry." And she was sorry. She was sorry to be leaving her daughter, she was sorry to be putting her on the road, she was sorry she had committed such awful crimes that _this_ had become the only possible solution. She solemnly looked up and met Thomas's watery eyes. "You can stop crying too! Some bodyguard."She chuckled quietly, the solemn look momentarily replaced with love; love for both her friend and her child. "I think it's time."

She carefully moved his velvet-black cloak over the now-sleeping bundle in his arms in order to hide her from prying eyes. Then she pulled his hood far over the tall man's square face. "Goodbye, old friend. You have done me an honourable favour. I will not forget this." Her soft, blue eyes seemed to pulse with terror. But her firmly clasped lips spoke of bravery.

"And what will you do?" he muttered sadly, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I will leave for the land of Skyrim. I have family there, a place to hide." At a second glance, the contents of her grubby tent had been completely packed away in several sacks which had been piled neatly in a corner, save a white wax candle that rested in a tin dish on a moss-ridden wooden cube to the left of the table. She had clearly been planning this arrangement for some time.

"Then I wish you luck in your travels," He tore himself from her gaze, knowing that if he stayed a second longer he would never muster enough strength to leave her to face her terrible fate alone. She took a moment to squeeze his forearm and nod, profoundly grateful. "Goodbye, Marie. And good luck." She withdrew her hand slowly as he turned to separate the olive tent's flaps with his shoulder blades and scurry away. Suddenly, he was just another shadow in the night.

He took off, a stray tear being whipped away in the wind, navigating between trees, behind rocks and through tall grass. Not a single person saw him as he zigzagged towards the glowing firelight in the distance, but he had the advantage of it being very late at night. Only guards and criminals were out at this time and he was fortunate enough to not run into anyone undesirable until he was in sight of the old Ayleid bridge.

He looked up and saw two guards patrolling the length of the bridge, obviously on the look out for some rampant criminal. He quickly hid behind one of the stone structures jutting out the Imperial City walls. He furrowed his brow in frustration. In his current suspicious circumstances he didn't particularly want to face them. A man dressed in dark clothing skulking in the shadows was typically the type of person that guards would notice, and to top it all off he was holding a child. Would they think it was his? Would they assume him a kidnapper? Would they recognise the child as..._hers?_ He took a deep breath. The child had dark skin colouring and was born but three days earlier. The chances are they haven't seen Marie before with the babe and it could be conceivable that it was his own child. But how was he going to explain where he had been at this time of night, with an infant no less?

He threw his head back and the momentum took his hood down. Then he brought the child out from under his cloak, trying to balance the baby in one arm and keeping his other one in his cloak to hide the cloth. In a purposeful manner he continued walking up the hill towards the opening in the bridge with the baby proudly on display. As he neared the top one of the guards turned towards him and scrutinised him with her jade eyes.

"Greetings, sir. Where have you been at such a late hour? And with a baby?" she politely remarked, but she had a slight undertones of condescension and suspicion.

"Ahve just returned from mah friend's house-that be where ah was visitin', mam." He said with a rather improper tone. The guard smiled, taking the bait and assuming he was a simpleton."Ahm sorry for any trouble ah caused, mah friend and mahself can't tell time none too well." He held his breath as she thought for a second, absorbing this information.

"That's fine. From the gypsy camp, are you?" she glanced towards the wagons that had been arranged beside an old fisherman's farmhouse as we prepared to leave.

"Yes, mam." She nodded, silent judgement plastered all over her face although she tried to hide it.

"Well then, don't let me stop you. Mara be with you." she looked at the baby in his arms once more and smiled, "Well, at least Stendarr's got your back, eh big fella?"She laughed at her own witty joke and he politely chuckled along. He watched the guard report to the ever-vigilant back-up guard that had been watching carefully for any scuffles.

Thomas turned around and started to calmly walk towards the gypsy camp, heart thumping in his chest so hard it almost woke the baby, who stirred in her sleep, letting out a small cry. He shushed her soothingly and once again ran his thoughts through a sieve. There was only one thing for it. He would have to go to his father and his wife and explain what had happened, in that order. And it wasn't going to be pretty.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, straightened his posture, squared his (already very square) shoulders and marched around the beautifully engraved caravan he had been screening himself behind into the middle of the camp with admirable determination.

"What in _Tamriel_ is _that?" _he immediately slumped into cowering puppy mode, edging away from the angry fireball that was storming towards him at a furious pace but not quite dodging it in time. He hadn't thought that she would be sitting on the step of their caravan waiting for him.

"It's a baby. I-"

"Yes, I know what it _is_, but please explain why you've disappeared for the entire night when everyone else was packing up and working hard and then returned with an _infant?_ A bleeding **infant**! I swear to the nine, Thomas-Henry, you better have a good reason for this. Well?"

"Okay, I'll tell you, keep your hair on. But we need to go inside. Private matters." The shouting and screaming had already woken some of the older members of the camp that had been napping and they peered nervously through the multi-coloured curtains which adorned the entrance of their caravan. Besides that, some of the others that were relaxing before the camp began to move stared bluntly up from the camp fire. Thankfully, his parents hadn't been awoken. Or they were off strapping in their horse, gathering herbs, reading a book, whatever they were doing it was a blessing from Mara herself his entire blood family had not appeared all at once.

The pale Redguard woman glanced around and irritably stomped towards the caravan from whence she had come. He was tempted to turn around and race off to the hills with the child in tow. He chuckled quietly under his breath at the thought and followed his wife into the wagon.

"Why are you laughing?" her brow furrowed in a similar way to his own when he himself got frustrated. He thought about just how long they had known each other and conjured up the energy to calmly smile at her worried frown.

"For the grace of the nines, we need to help this child, Krisandra. There is no turning back now, and I apologise, but now is the time for forgiveness and openness. The babe has no other home, no other life to return to. I hope that in time, we will be able to accept this child as our own. As part of our extended family." He pleaded with her with his eyes, still clutching the baby, looking very ridiculous for his size. But he was very persuasive.

She sighed."Oh, come on Thomas. Don't look at me like that; you know I could never turn away a young baby. That's not the point. The point is: _why_ have we got the baby? Did the Divines swoop down and hand her to you? Did a tree quiver and the baby just _fell out?_" she was getting herself back into a frenzy.

"I've received the babe from an old friend. It's not safe to discuss it further at this time. When we are on the road and far enough from the Imperial City I'll fill in the blanks. I promise. For now, please care for the child as though she were your own. I know you will support me though this." He handed the child to his wife who reluctantly accepted. The bundle of rags was laid in the corner of the wagon and his wife looked confused for a moment, after having a minute to organise her thoughts.

"How are we supposed to feed her? I can't. No one else at the camp has had a baby recently. What are we supposed to do?" He looked up and held the cleanest cloth in the air which had been wrapped in blankets for extra protection.

"We soak this with cow's milk and then feed it into her mouth." She simply nodded, astounded, and accepted this explanation as she was too tired to ask any more questions. It couldn't be a healthy alternative for one so young but there didn't seem to be any other option other than to try this while they searched for a suitable mother. He took this silence as a signal to go, but he still stood in place."We should announce the arrival of the child to the entire camp. They'll find out anyway, sooner or later." His wife wearily looked up at him, wanting to sleep so badly it shone through her entire demeanour. But she staggered to her feet, long deep red hair swishing backwards with the effort, holding the baby close to her chest protectively and began to drearily follow her husband out to the campfire.

They both stood near the center of the camp with every pair of eyes following them, be those eyes hiding or in plain sight. Nether of the Redguards flinched.

"Brothers! Sisters! We have an important announcement to make." Everyone knew this of course, but the ones who were watching them in secrecy edged out warily into the light. Thomas swivelled his eyes around and saw his parents standing with wheat and reins in their hands, throwing questioning glares at their son. He took yet another bracing breath. "This baby in my wife's arms was found near the river, left there by a cruel and heartless fate to perish as wolf bait or drown as the tide pulled her asunder. We must accept her into our lives, as Mara would wish us to do, and save her from that tragic destiny!" Thomas's eyes grew bleary and he wiped his nose sorrowfully. His wife merely stared up at him in confusion, but stayed silent. She had grown to trust her husband's often superior judgement. "It is my fondest wish that we, as a family, should save yet another babe from the terrible clutches of death. Fair sisters, brave brothers, what say you?"

The camp erupted in applause as though he had finished a mighty performance, and every single person was won over, bar one. Theresa tutted and rolled her eyes, but stayed silent. She raised one over-jewelled arm and projected her voice to the gathered masses,"My people. We are to set off as soon as the horses are reined. I, and anyone else over 60 years of age," she paused to look over at Thomas's parents, "apart from my husband, should get some rest. If you are not on the night-time shift, you must also sleep. Tomorrow and tonight will be a long day for everyone, as usual. Cole will alert you when the wagon drivers and the sleeping folk will switch. Good night, everyone. And welcome, little one." She smiled curtly in the older pair of Redguard's direction and set off to continue her nap. Everyone else carried out the orders she had set for them. No-one questioned Theresa or Cole, her husband. They simply knew what they were doing better than everyone else, and so naturally resumed the role of leader.

The baby was laid to rest on a cradle made from winter cloaks. It wasn't the safest arrangement, but as the two Redguards looked down upon the still sleeping child they felt a pull of parental pride in their hearts and they knew that this was the best choice for the child. Krisandra lay down on her own bedroll beside the homemade crib and almost instantly fell asleep, relieved that her husband had finally arrived home safely. Thomas himself smirked at his own cleverness and made his way to the front of the wagon to join the camp in the great monthly move. He was tired, but determined. The baby would live. The sooner the camp arrived at a city and gathered some breast milk the better.

* * *

Parchment. Parchment, parchment, _parchment._ Ground plans, star constellation patterns, letters, fees due, payments due. Everything in the cramped wagon was covered in parchment, spare a small corner where an old woman hunched. A withering hand grasped a pointed quill. Sunlight shone through the gap in the faded yellow curtains from the front of the cart and illuminated her bony face that was framed with wisps of grey hair. Sharp, blue eyes scrutinised the messily scrawled writing in front of her. Occasionally she made a neatly printed correction, but otherwise she was completely still. Her experience was evidential, her concentration unbreakable.

"Theresa." The old woman jumped in shock and scratched the parchment straight through the middle, leaving an ugly black scar.

"Oh for goodness _sakes_ Ebony! I will not adhere to this blatant disre-"

"Shush, friend. Let us not contend. I am here to deliver a prophecy, to the woman who is rather crotchety." The lantern on the ceiling swung gently to and fro, momentarily bathing the bottom of Ebony's blood-coloured cloak in yellow light: The only evidence that someone else had entered the wagon. Even the curtains were unscathed. But Theresa appeared unfazed.

"Well? Deliver then! And just who do-" She scorned bitterly, before recoiling in shock. She couldn't tell, not really. Not for sure. But she could have sworn that the cloaked woman had looked her in the eyes and she had heard a _voice_. In her head. Shutting her mouth closed and paralysing her for a few seconds. But this couldn't be, it was surely impossible-must have been her old age catching up to her. She quickly brushed off the minor hitch as her own over-exertion and lack of sleep playing games with her mind. After all, Ebony couldn't look her _directly_ in the eye. She was, in any case, completely blind.

"Patience, elder one, patience_._ I think you'll find what I have to say is no cause for pleasance. I will tell you what has been told, but before the true story can unfold we must meet far from your humble abode."

Theresa sighed heavily. She hated the stupid rhymes and riddles that Ebony carted around like a rotten fish which she constantly rammed down everyone else's throats. But as it was, she had great skill in the art of Divination that had proven useful in the past, helping them avoid several near-disastrous storms and occasionally forewarning crime in the ranks so _unfortunately_ she had to be suffered through for the greater good. If the worst ever came to the worst however, it was going to be difficult to catch her. For one thing, no-one really knows where she lives. She never- visibly-travels with the camp and appears whenever it pleases her to do so, no matter when it pleases her to do so. That's another thing, her sneaking abilities are unparalleled by anyone that Theresa had ever known- which it could be quite a pain in the quill-hand. "Then _where_ shall I meet you?"

"If the sacred sayings are what you seek, meet me by old mine creek. Under the oldest oak I will wait, it is there we shall resume our date. However I will not appear, until the moons can be seen clear." Ah, there's that rotten fish again. Without even allowing time for Theresa to _blink_, she stepped backwards and the darkness reached out and embraced her, seemingly completely removing her from this dimension.

_'She couldn't have been less specific. The _oldest oak_?How in gods name am I supposed to know which one the flipping _oldest oak_ is?'_ She looked down dismally at the ruined document she still clasped between her fingers. _'There's nothing for it. It can't be repaired.'_ And she discarded the paper into another dune of forgotten papers before adventuring out in search of her copy of 'The Complete Atlas of Cyrodill-Part I'.

* * *

**Author's Note 2: Oh hi again! I see you finished my fanfiction. Please leave a review even if you didn't like it much as I love to hear the person behind the hit number :D **


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